


Fuckin' Stuck

by Splatx



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Creampie, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fucked while Stuck, Marking, Micah Bell definitely has a crush on you, Micah Bell is a bastard, Micah Bell is a somewhat considerate lover, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Overused trope, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Secret Crush, Shitty trope, Stuck In A Hole, Vaginal Sex, You did get that necklace though, but a bastard who likes to give you pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24482218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splatx/pseuds/Splatx
Summary: Your day was bad enough when you got stuck in a window, but you were gone hours passed when you said you'd be back, so surely Dutch would send someone looking for you? You hoped it was Charles--he had a nasty habit for finding people in embarrassing situations, after all, and he'd never say a word.So, naturally, it was Micah damn Bell that came riding up while you were ass up, head down.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 116





	Fuckin' Stuck

_‘I just had to try and get that damn necklace.’_

You were stuck tight, and not entirely sure how long you’d been trapped there. The necklace had looked like it would sell for a decent amount, so you’d stretched, reached through the abandoned barn’s glass-less window, managed to grab the necklace’s chain only to find yourself unable to get back out. You’d been wedged tight at your shoulders, unable to get your arms or your breasts back through, and after the first hour of struggling, which only served to scratch the shit out of your stomach and sides, you’d been made to take a break. An attempt at hauling yourself into the barn had failed, your hips refusing to fit through.

All your hope rested in one of the others coming looking for you, and you prayed it was someone who wouldn’t laugh too much at you. Charles, maybe—he had a nasty habit of catching folk doing embarrassing things, and only helped them instead. Once you’d bled clear through your pants, not having realized as you’d been so focused on cleaning your guns, and he’d only walked up behind you and offered you a clean pair, walking behind you to the treeline and guarding it while you changed.

Still, though, you’d rather get yourself free before anyone came looking for you. You weren’t sure how much time had passed, but you’d said you’d be back before sun-high and it was several hours past, so you didn’t have much time. Thank god the window frame was well made, only a few splinters digging into your sides so you weren’t bleeding, though the scratches burned, but there weren’t any nails so you counted yourself lucky, you’d survived bullets and wolves and knives and cougars and didn’t care to die of lockjaw.

But no matter how much you braced yourself, strained and pushed or pulled, all you served to do was scratch up your sides, make your shoulders burn with the effort, and finally you had to concede and slump down, letting the abandoned barn take your weight.

_‘Fuck.’_

  
  


Hoofbeats approaching scared the shit out of you, and you tried to look over your shoulder only to smack your head into the barn-wall. _‘Please let it be Charles’_ , although you’d take any member of the Gang. If anyone else found you… well, your goose was more than cooked. Just the thought of what might be done to you made you shudder.

The hoofbeats came to a stop behind you, boots hitting the ground, and you stiffened. Bracing your hands against the wall beneath you, you tried to look back over your shoulder, but couldn’t see anything except for the brown wood of the barn.

“Well, ain’t this a pretty sight?”

  
  


Of fucking course it was Micah.

Of all the gang members, the only one you’d want to find you even less was… actually, no one. He’d _never_ let you forget this, and you were glad that you hadn’t worn your skirts, else he’d probably have taken his payment in way of getting a nice look before working you free.

“Dammit, Bell!” you snapped, moved to strain again before thinking better—he’d only get an even better view of your ass. “Just get me out of here!”

He chuckled, much closer than you expected, and a warm hand settled on the curve of your spine. “I will, just give me a minute to enjoy the view,” and you were sure your blush reached low enough that he could see it, you weren’t no view! This wasn’t fucking funny, and you told him so, only to get another one of his sneering laughs.

“Get me the fuck out of here Bell! This _hurts!”_

His fingers ghosted up to your sides, just barely managing to ghost where the fabric of your shirt had frayed from scraping against the wood, and you shivered, goosebumps rising on your skin. That should not have felt good, dammit!

“I’ll make it feel good, then,” his voice held that distinct sneer only he could pull off, and you didn’t even manage to get out all of your “W-wait, what?” before he was sliding your shirt up to bare your back, pressing his lips along the knobs of your spine as he said, “I think I deserve a bit of a reward for findin’ ya, don’t ya think? You’d be stuck all night if I hadn’t, after all. Who knows who woulda found you then.”

You froze as he slipped his thumbs into your belt loops, working them down just enough that he could trail his hand along the bare skin of your ass, jolting in surprised alarm as he ran his trigger and middle finger between your lips, doing it again and tweaking your clit as he did so. Regaining your wits, you tried to donkey kick him, but he was faster and yanked your jeans down around your ankles to tangle them together. “Bell!” you snarled, struggling, but he grabbed your thighs in a bruising grip as he dropped to his knees, “What the hell do ya think you’re doin’ you slimy bastard!”

His breath ghosted over your cunt as he laughed, “I told ya I’d make it feel good, just claimin’ my treat for helpin’!” before licking a stripe up your slit. You squealed in shock, lurching forward, but he tightened his grip and pulled you back against his mouth, making you squirm at the strange sensation of his ridiculous mustache against such a sensitive part of you. He held you in place as he flattened his tongue against your lips, before licking another stripe. Micah wrenched your hips up, craning his neck in a way that must have been uncomfortable, as he took your clit in his mouth, sending stars sparking behind your eyelids, rolling it before suckling hard enough that pleasure-pain shot up your spine.

You screamed bloody murder, and the feel of him laughing against you definitely didn’t help. “Bell-fuck-damn- _stop_ -bastard-!” but he only dug his fingers into your hips harder, and you knew you’d have bruises for days, and you fully intended on tearing him a new asshole if only he’d stop long enough for you to string a full thought together—

He reached up a finger, slipped it into your cunt and crooked it just so, and you convulsed, jaw dropping in a silent scream, reaching down and clawing at the wood beneath you in a frantic attempt to ground yourself, finally slumping down bonelessly as you twitched in the throws of your afterglow while Micah stood, wiping your fluids off his face with a lascivious grin. “See? Told you I’d make it good for ya.”

You blinked blearily, though as you regained your wits and felt him running his fingers along the soaked inside of your legs, gathering the slick there and rubbing it between his trigger finger and thumb, you snarled, “What the _fuck_ , Bell!”

He hummed in a questioning way, and the sound of his belt buckle being undone was as loud as a gunshot breaking the quiet of the air, “I said I was gonna take my reward for savin’ ya, and that’s what I’m doin,’” as he lowered his pants just low enough to pull his throbbing cock out, purple at the head and already dripping pre-cum. Micah pumped it, mixing his fluids with yours, before shoving his foot into your pants and scooping up your legs, lifting your feet and kicking your jeans away.

“Bell, you fucker don’t you dare!”

He rubbed the head of his cock against your slit, making sure it was nice and wet, as he leaned forward, nipping at your neck and lining himself up with one hand, the other getting a firm grip on your hip. “Well, ain’t that right,” before pressing in without further warning, not stopping until he was firmly seated, balls against your slit. You squealed at the stretch, though more out of alarm than pain, clawing at the wood beneath you as you spread your legs, trying to arch away from him, but he pulled you back to stay deeply seated, only giving little aborted bucks of his hips.

“Dammit,” you hissed as he pulled back slowly, biting at one the knobby bones of your back, and you’d never admit to the startled moan that tore from your throat at the pleasure-pain. But from the way you could feel his lips curl against your skin, he definitely heard it.

“See darlin’?” he grunted with another slow grind of his hips, and _no_ , the pet name did _not_ do nothing for you, and neither did the way he shuddered when you clenched around him, “Told ya I’d make it good for ya.”

And with that, he slammed into you so hard it knocked the breath from your lungs, jolting you forward, and you could only grunt as your hips slammed into the windowpane. He took a moment to press down on your spine, lowering his head to nip at the dimples above your ass as you braced yourself, planting your feet and dropping your head, pressing your hands against the wood and shaking your head as your hair fell in a curtain in front of your face, spitting out the strands that slipped into your panting mouth.

Even as he fucked into you so hard you couldn’t catch your breath, Micah licked and bit and sucked and kissed his way up and down your back, along your spine, your shoulder blades, your ribs and those dimples, and you knew you’d be covered with hickeys come morning, and “Dam-ammit, Be-ell!” how would you be able to cover them all? and already you could feel beard burn on your skin. His hips stuttered, and he scratched along your hip as he reached down to play with your clit in time with his thrusts, a pressure building in your lower stomach, your grunts turning into whines, tasting blood as you bit your tongue to keep from pleading his name.

With a strangled scream, you clenched tight on him, feeling his cock throb and a warmth fill your stomach as you both came, Micah grunting your name as you finally choked out “F-fuck, Micah! Micah, Micah, Micah!” tears dripping down your face.

Damn, he’d never let you forget that.  
  


He slumped down on top of you, panting loudly, until finally you snarled “Get. off. of. me. I can’t breathe, Bell!”

and he did, chuckling in that smarmy way of his, though it sounded rather shaky, even as he spanked your ass with a 

“That’s my darlin’,” and you tried to kick him, but kicked wide and only found air. For that, you got a harsher spank to the ass, one at the crease where it met with your leg and it fuckin’ _hurt_ and you snarled his surname again as he stumbled away—your eyes widened, he wouldn’t _dare_ , but then there was a rough cloth between your legs, wiping you clean, 

“You fuckin’ asshole, you came inside me!”

and there was a definite grin in his voice as he said “Whoops,” though he didn’t sound particularly apologetic, his handkerchief thrown off to the side as he retrieved your jeans and slid them onto you, pocketing your underthings. “Totally slipped my mind.”

“Slippery as your mind is—” you started, but he was already walking away, and when you heard a horse whicker you yelled “BELL!” but he didn’t deign to respond until he was back at your side, patting you on your ass and asking

“Need somethin’, darlin’?”

“Could start with not callin’ me darlin’, for one,” you grumbled, as he went to work bashing the rotting window frame with the butt of your rifle, widening the opening so he could pull you out.


End file.
